


turning tides

by Syndcates



Series: turning tides verse [1]
Category: Mianite - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Decisions, Dianitee!Jordan, Ianitee!Tom, Major Character Injury, Major Character Undeath, Not a full retelling cause im lazy, Other, Realm of Mianite, Role Reversal, but theres some vibes here, come get yall juice, tom gets yeeted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25376872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syndcates/pseuds/Syndcates
Summary: “I’m Tom, by the way,” Tom says, running a hand through his hair. Jordan smiles, a dangerous glint in his eye, and Tom swallows. There’s a strange sort of energy around Jordan, heat and danger that pulls Tom in.“Tom,” Jordan says, smirk widening, “welcome to the Realm of Mianite.”-Jordan shows up before Tom. Things change.
Relationships: Tom Cassell & Jordan Maron
Series: turning tides verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846783
Comments: 24
Kudos: 49





	1. Discovery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [transvav](https://archiveofourown.org/users/transvav/gifts).



> hehe team swap au go brrr

His mouth tastes like salt.

That’s the first thing he notices when he comes to consciousness. His eyes feel thick and heavy, but he drags them open anyways to a blur of colour. He blinks once, twice, and the world comes into focus. The sun beats down on him, waves crashing behind him. His clothes are stuck to him, dry and salty, and Tom pushes himself up onto his hands and knees.

And then promptly throws up.

“Whoa there,” Soft footsteps approach, and a shadow comes into Tom’s vision. He glances upwards, vision spinning slightly. There’s a hand being placed on his back as he retches, rubbing in small, gentle circles. Tom pushes himself back onto his knees, his head spinning. The stranger grabs Tom’s elbow as well, steadying Tom as his vision goes dark for a second. When he finally blinks away the dark spots, Tom looks up to greet this stranger.

 _Hot_ is the first thing that comes to mind, and Tom forcefully shoves that thought back into the dark corners of his mind. The man is handsome, of course, with light blue eyes and a tanned complexion. His hair curled softly around his face, reaching just to the tips of his ears, and some had stuck to his forehead in smaller curls due to the heat.

“Uh,” Tom says eloquently. The man smiles down at him, his face lighting up as he does so.

"Hi there. I’m Jordan.”

The man - _Jordan,_ he corrects, helps him to his feet. Tom brushes some sand off of his jacket, flushing slightly as Jordan eyes him up and down, his very muscular arms crossing over his chest. Tom can’t help but feel a little intimidated by Jordan, even though he’s been nothing but helpful. So far, at least. 

Plus, Jordan’s shimmering purple-blue armour and sword make Tom feel a little under-protected. A small part of his brain thinks, _well, that just provides Jordan more opportunities to protect you_ and he pushes that thought back where it came from. He is _not_ getting a crush on a man he just met, no matter how hot he may be.

“I’m Tom, by the way,” Tom says, running a hand through his hair. Jordan smiles, a dangerous glint in his eye, and Tom swallows. There’s a strange sort of energy around Jordan, heat and danger that pulls Tom in.

“Tom,” Jordan says, smirk widening, “welcome to the Realm of Mianite.”

* * *

The island - and its inhabitants - are a little bit… odd, Tom thinks. It’s not that they aren’t nice people, they just simply aren’t what he’s used too. Sonja and Tucker were perfectly kind to him, Dec offered up lots of wisdom about the gods, and Jordan was, well, _Jordan_.

It’s just strange, living in such a small community where the gods physically show up every once in a while. Takes some getting used too.

Not only does that take some getting used to, but the idea of being a follower does as well. He wouldn’t have to be a champion - thank god (or would it be gods now?) - unless he wanted to fight either Tucker or Jordan for the title. And he was fine honestly. Being a follower was good enough. The only thing he was displeased about was being forced onto Dianite’s team.

Now, he knew as soon as Dec told him about Mianite that he would never be a Mianitee. But in his first meeting with the god, Tom somehow was able to piss him off so much that Mianite teleported him into a lava pool. Tom was lucky Jordan was nearby with a bucket of water handy. 

So that solidified him as a Dianitee. Great. Fantastic.

If only Dianite would give him the time of day.

* * *

In all of her years of being a goddess, Ianite didn’t know if she could recall a time when she was more upset with her brother. The youngest one, to be precise.

Sure, he had taken her from her followers, taken her heart. Removed her from the public eye. But this? This was just downright _cruel_. 

Each of them had their predetermined champions - it was simply just written in their universe. But Dianite had taken that from her, just as he’d taken everything else. He had stolen her champion, the one who was meant to be hers from the very beginning. Jordan was the perfect Ianitee. Or at least, he would’ve been.

She couldn’t even reach him now, she thought mournfully. Now she was left with so few followers, dwindling power, and no champion. Jordan was supposed to help set her brother straight, not _join him_. She had no other connections, or at least, none that strong. No one knew who she was, except for a small handful of people. How was balance supposed to be restored if she had no one to champion her beliefs? No one to bring her message to others?

For the first time in a millennium, Ianite wept.

* * *

Tom’s getting fed up by now.

He’s been living on the island for months now, being a devoted Dianitee and inhabitant of the isle. He’s done everything that was asked of him and more if he could. Helped out his fellow Dianitee’s whenever he had the chance.

And yet Dianite _still_ wouldn’t answer his prayers.

Tom hated to feel like he was comparing himself to Jordan because of _course_ Jordan was getting the attention. He was the champion, for god's sake! But Dianite seemed to spend all of his time with Jordan. Tom was just… upset. He’d devoted so much to Dianite, but he was getting nothing back from it. It stung if Tom was being honest.

Plus, there was the whole issue of the Mianitees. All Mianite had was Sonja and Tucker, because while Tom respected Dec, he was no fighter. Meanwhile, Dianite had multiple followers, on and of the island, in which Tom and Jordan were included. But it just didn’t seem fair to Tom, not that he’d ever brought it up to Dianite.

How much fun was causing chaos if only one person was trying to stop you? How fun could robbing and pranking be if you only had two people who lived in the same house to prank and steal from? It just didn’t make sense. The teams were supposed to be balanced, supposed to be fair. Why should he and Jordan win all of the time? It certainly made things more interesting when Tucker and Sonja came out on top.

So Tom slacks off of his duties and does the bare minimum. He won’t try harder unless Dianite shows he cares for Tom in any way. Which he doesn’t. Instead, Tom spends his free time reading more about the gods. It interests him for a reason he can’t quite put his finger on, but he does know that learning more scratches that itch. He just wishes that Dec would look a bit more cheery after he asks more about what being a Priest is like. It can’t be that bad, can it?

As he learns more, he becomes more opposed to Dianite and Mianite. Why do they only focus on a small group of people, rather than their large groups of followers outside the isle? Why is there only chaos and order, and nothing in between? Why is there a god of the Overworld, and one of the Nether, but not one of the End? Nothing he reads sits right with him, and he doesn’t know where to go for answers.

And then he hears a woman’s voice, strange and ethereal. It grows stronger every time he brushes it off as him simply hearing things. He feels… strangely comforted by it, even though he knows he shouldn’t be listening to it. To her.

 ~~It~~ _She_ encourages him towards the end, and when Tom gets there he is filled with a sense of… peace. Of belonging. He’s struck with an urge - something welling up inside of his chest - and he builds a temple. It isn’t pretty, but after he’s finished he feels approval radiating through him. And for possibly the first time, Tom kneels and prays.

And she answers.

* * *

She’s witnessed some strange things over her ever-lasting life, but none quite so strange as this, she thinks.

It had been months since her acceptance of her loss of her champion. Months of regret and grief and anger and every emotion under the sun as she worked through it. But in those months… Something had changed in the land.

Something had changed in some _one_ , to be more precise.

It had taken her weeks to realize what was happening, and by then she was unable to stop it. Tom had begun shifting after his first month on the island, whether he realized it or not. The universe had seen what Dianite had done. Had seen the way he had thrown balance out of order. And it was reacting.

It was adapting, however slowly, to create balance. To make things right. Ianite didn’t know if she was happy or not at the choice, however.

Tom was made to be a Dianitee. He lived and breathed chaos, did things on his own terms. That was certainly different from Jordan, who instead was passive and much more balanced. Tom would seek out action; Jordan would allow it to come to him. 

And yet… something inside of her told her that Tom had potential. And so she looked closer at Tom, or as close as she could get from her prison.

Tom wanted friendship above all else, fairness and acceptance amongst his friends. And the inequality he perceived between her brother’s followers had changed something within him. Ultimately, he valued his friends above the gods, which was a fairly valuable trait to have. He was loyal, Ianite noted and charming in his own way.

She laughs quietly to herself, the sound echoing in her empty cell. _I can work with this,_ she thinks, hope blossoming in her chest.

She watches as he finds his way to her End, gazing up at the sky of endless black in awe. His temple is crude, but it has character, and it’s deeply personal. Every section of the small temple is of Tom’s design, of his own making. Every piece of the temple had a piece of Tom along with it.

And when he kneels at the altar he built with his own two hands and prays, Ianite knows what her answer is. Knows that this is her only chance. Knows that she can do some good with Tom, that he can do something good.

And she answers him.

* * *

His heart is pounding in his chest, breaths coming in ragged bursts. It’s his first purge as an Ianitee, and Jordan has been targeting him. Maybe it’s because Jordan sees him as a traitor, or maybe he just really wants Tom’s gear.

Tom doesn’t know, and at this point, it doesn’t matter. Jordan’s corralling him into a dead-end, and they both know it. Either Tom turns around to fight and gets killed or he continues to run and gets killed. Neither is good, but Tom would rather go out with some dignity.

He spins and draws his sword in the same movement, but Jordan is one step ahead of him, like always. Tom’s blade is forced out of his hand before he can blink, skidding across the ground away from them. He barely has enough time to breathe before Jordan is onto him. 

Tom grunts as Jordan forces him against the wall, his forearm pressing against Tom’s chest. Before he can react, Jordan’s sword is pressing just under his chin, forcing Tom’s head up. Tom grits his teeth, feeling a bead of sweat ~~or maybe blood?~~ trailing down his neck. The blade scrapes across his neck, waves of heat rolling across Tom’s skin. Stupid fire aspect sword.

“Well, isn’t this a predicament Tom?” Jordan lazily grins, his eyes dark and wild. The smell of fire and brimstone fills the air around them, and Tom’s eyes water slightly. Tom swallows, his hands shaking slightly as Jordan presses closer, a feeling of heat and power emanating off of Jordan.

“You _could_ let me go,” Tom starts, but Jordan barks out a laugh. His grin morphs into a smirk, and he drops his voice to a whisper, leaning in close enough that Tom can see the flecks of grey in his eyes.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

There’s a brief moment of pain before everything goes dark. Tom wakes up in his bed, the skin of his throat still pink and healing.

* * *

It’s hard, at first.

As most things are, Tom’s transition to Ianite’s champion is no easy task. Giving up on being a Dianitee was one thing, but actively worshiping a goddess who your friends think doesn’t exist is difficult.

Now that the DIanitee’s can target him, they’ve assaulted his houses with multiple pranks and robberies, oftentimes leaving him with next to nothing. It’s annoying, but Tom pushes onwards. Jordan is the worst of them. Tom secretly thinks it’s because he saw Tom leaving as a direct betrayal, and is thus taking his anger out on Tom. His pranks are worse than anyone else’s, and Tom will celebrate the day Jordan decides to stop.

He learns more about Ianite and her imprisonment. His blood boils at the idea that he once served under the same man that is holding her captive, but Ianite is quick to reassure him that she holds no ill-will towards his followers, past or present. He chats with her while he builds his many, many houses, writing things down to send as prayers when she runs out of energy.

Tom’s sure she could use the pick me up, and honestly, he enjoys talking with someone who won’t immediately ridicule him about his goddess. It surprisingly refreshing. 

So when Ianite mentions that _her_ pirates will be coming soon (and he doesn’t miss the triumphant sound in her voice when she calls them _hers_ ), Tom is elated. Finally, people who follow the same goddess as he does. Maybe people will start to take him seriously when he talks about balance.

They, like him, lean more towards the chaos end of Ianite’s spectrum, and Ianite reassures him that he’ll fit right in. _In fact_ , she had said, _you may even be less chaotic than they are._

Meeting the pirates goes well, all things considered. Jordan was an ass, but when was he not? Sonja was just happy to have another girl on the island, and Tucker was impressed by the pirates’ ship. All in all, Tom thinks that it was a great first meeting, even though he was scared shitless for more than half of it.

He helps the pirates build a home for themselves, learns more about them and their connection to Ianite. Tom likes Capsize the best; she’s kind to him and they get along surprisingly well. He’s had an incredible few weeks, much better than his first few months on the island. And the pirates help him plan to reclaim Ianite’s heart. Things are looking up, in Tom’s opinion.

Of course, that’s when everything decides to go wrong.


	2. Decisions

Tom is full of nerves. He adjusts the buckles on his chest plate once, twice, before doing the same with his leggings. His hands shake, and Tom tries to take a couple of deep, calming breaths. It doesn’t work so well.

Ten minutes. That’s all the time he has left.

This is a fight Ianite had tried to steer him away from, gently tugging at their bond. But he _can’t_ sit by and let Dianite take Capsize. He can’t allow Dianite to get away with kidnapping Capsize. Tom had tried, gods, he had tried -

_\- reaching out a hand towards her, eyes wide with fear, sword plunging into her gut and everything was red, red, red -_

\- he had tried to save her. He had failed.

Tom had promised himself that’d he wouldn’t fail her again. Not if he could help it. He ran his hands through his hair, pacing. Tom had made a dumb, in-the-moment decision, and now it could cost Capsize her life.

_“A deal,” Dianite had purred, his eyes lighting like an ember._

_“A fight,” Tom had clarified, “Me and Jordan. Champion versus Champion.” Tom ignored the looks people were shooting him, Jordan included. “I win, you release Capsize to me. He wins…”_

_“I keep Capsize.” Dianite finished, smiling sadistically. “Interesting. Very, very interesting…”_

_“Do we have a deal, or not?” Dianite smirked, tipping his head towards Tom._

_“We do indeed have a deal, Thomas.” Dianite chuckled, the sound reverberating throughout the temple. “I look forward to seeing you two in action.”_

So now here Tom was, two minutes away from the fight and absolutely shitting his pants about it. He had his best armour, his best sword. Gods, he’d even brought his bow in case he could get a few shots off in time. Slow Jordan down, maybe.

Jordan, on the other hand, was fully decked out in enchanted diamond armour, the blue-purple shine visible from across the arena. Tom swallowed, grip tightening on his sword.

He doesn’t even have god armour.

Gods he is so fucked.

* * *

This match has been rigid from the beginning, Jordan knows. He’s got the good armour, the good weapons, the skill and the practice to easily beat Tom a hundred times over. But this is more important than just winning a fight.

Or at least, to Jordan it is. He isn’t so sure about Dianite, though. Jordan casts a wary look towards the god, who’s sitting off to one side, arms crossed over his chest, watching Tom with an amused look. To him, at least, he believes he knows who will win this fight. 

Jordan has his own tricks up his sleeve, however.

Dec, who graciously agreed to referee the match glanced to the two of them, making sure that they were both ready. Tom looked like he was going to pass out. Or vomit. Or maybe both.

“Fight!” Dec’s voice echoed across the arena, and he watched as Sonja and Tucker both straightened, watching with intense focus. Skipper sits on the opposite side of the arena, looking about five bottles into his rum already. His sister’s life is on the line, Jordan reminds himself, pulling his sword from its sheath.

They trade a few simple blows, but the start of the fight is slow, methodic. They’re both trying to see who will strike first, who will take the initiative. Jordan rolls his shoulders, widening his stance. He’s fine to take the offence. Not like he’s going to try and do any lasting damage to Tom.

He catches Tom by surprise with a few quick attacks, cutting Tom on his arm, but Tom quickly parries the next few blows. Their swords clashed together, and Jordan used his greater mass to spin them so that his back was facing Dianite.

“Let me fail, Tom.” He hissed, watching as Tom’s eyes widened slightly.

“Are you crazy?” Tom mouthed back as he forced their blades apart, going for an overhead strike that Jordan easily blocked.

“I’m not letting someone suffer because of me,” Jordan shot back, watching as Tom raised an eyebrow, parrying Jordan’s thrusts. “Okay, so maybe some people have been hurt by me.” He acquiesced. “Capsize is innocent. She doesn’t deserve this.” 

“Fine.” Tom grits out as their blades lock again, Tom pushing back against Jordan’s sword so their faces are closer together. Mor obscured. Smart, Jordan thinks as Tom speaks again. “What did you have in mind?”

Jordan muttered out a few fragments of his plan as they continued to fight, voices hushed, careful to hide them from Dianite in particular. Tom takes a few steps backwards, and Jordan tilts his head to the side, watching as Tom takes a deep breath.

And then they move.

Their blades connect with a loud sound, sparks flying across Jordan’s face as Tom bears down on both of their blades. Jordan shoves him off, flipping the blade around in his hand as Tom gears up for another attack. They deal several blows in quick succession, first Jordan, then Tom, Tom again and back to Jordan. To an outsider, it must look like a fairly even match. Jordan bites his lip, forcing himself not to smirk.

As if he and Tom are that closely matched. Tom may be skilled, but he’s had no formal training. Jordan, on the other hand, has. And it shows.

Finally, Tom swipes at his shoulder, a bead of sweat running down his forehead. Jordan takes a wider swing back at him, intentionally leaning too much of his weight onto his foot so that he starts to fall. Tom moves in, quick as a fox, and Jordan sees black.

Then he wakes up in the bed at the arena, rubbing at the sore spot on his neck. Dianite storms in a few minutes later, expression stormy, and Jordan gets to his feet the moment his god walks in the door.

“I am disappointed, _Captain_ ,” Dianite growls, his arms crossed over his chest, sneering. Jordan pretends not to be affected by Dianite’s tone, and instead opts to lace his fingers together in front of him.

“Apologies, my lord,” Jordan says, bowing his head. “He caught me off guard, and I stumbled.” Dianite scoffs.

“Well, next time,” Dianite shakes his head, “You will not be so careless. Understood?” Jordan straightens, looking Dianite in the eyes.

“Of course, my lord.”

* * *

It’s been two weeks since Tom and Jordan’s fight when Dianite shows up in the overworld once more. Tom can feel his presence before he appears, the field he’s currently traversing growing hotter, the scent of burning wood lingering in the air. Tom sighs and stops, glancing over his shoulder to see Jordan making his way towards him. Turning fully, the two of them face each other, and Jordan rubs the back of his head awkwardly.

“Dianite… Wants to see you.” Jordan doesn’t even sound fully convinced of the fact himself, and Tom rubs his forehead.

“Yeah?” Tom raised an eyebrow. “Well, I don’t exactly _see_ him here, and I’m _not_ going to go to the Nether just because he wants to see me.” He huffed as Jordan shifted, crossing and uncrossing his arms.

“And… If he _was_ here?” Jordan asked slowly, fiddling with his gauntlets.

“Then I’d tell him to fuck off and leave me alone.” Tom shot back, a scowl beginning to form on his face. Crackling, spitting flames burst out of the ground near Jordan, and from out of the smoke Dianite rose, a smirk on his face.

“Hello, Thomas,” Dianite purred, his eyes raking over Tom. Tom groaned, shaking his head slightly. Was Dianite incapable of arriving in a normal way? Or was he just born acting like his life was a theatre performance?

“Fuck off,” Tom said, “Leave me alone, Dianite.” 

Dianite sighed, floating downwards so that his feet touched the ground. Jordan coughed into his fist, and Tom knew he was hiding a smile. The Nether god began in a slow line, his feet burning the grass underneath.

“Seriously, I have stuff I need to do today,” Tom said after Dianite had burnt a black line between him and Jordan in the grass. “So if you could… I don’t know, _leave_? That’d be great.” He gave Dianite a pointed look.

“I suppose I’ll tell you the reason why I wanted to meet with you today, Thomas.” Dianite drawls, rolling his eyes. “Though that’s _much_ less fun.”

“Just get to the point.” Tom gritted out, not knowing if he wanted the god to leave him alone or if he wanted to strange Dianite.

“I want you on my team,” Dianite says, and Tom shakes his head. Unbelievable. 

“Well, that’s just _tough_ , mate.” Tom snaps back. “I’m not too certain I _want_ to be on your team.” He’s _not_ leaving his lady now, not for Dianite of all of the gods. Not when he knows that Ianite is trapped. Not when he knows he could do something about it.

“I _will_ get you on my team,” Dianite’s voice is a low growl, and Tom stiffens, looking up at Dianite defiantly. 

“I’d like to see you try,” He crossed his arms over his chest, keeping eye contact with the god. Tom scowls as Dianite smirks, snapping his fingers towards Jordan.

“Get on that, won’t you champion?” Jordan straightens, his mouth curling into a smirk.

“Of course, _my lord_.” Jordan gives Dianite a half-bow, before turning to Tom, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Oh no,” Tom says, raising his hands and taking several steps backwards, Jordan moving forwards at the same time. “I’m _not_ dealing with this right now.” Jordan’s grin widened, and Tom sighed, briefly glancing down at what he had on him. Could he afford to get killed right now? Probably not. Was he going to run away like a baby? Yes.

Turning quickly, Tom spun on his heel and darted in the opposite direction, hearing Jordan also break into a sprint. The hill he had to cross was coming up quickly. He’d get killed if he took the long way up.

Time to play dirty.

Hopping over the shrubs that lined the pathway, Tom stopped and closed his eyes, focusing on the pathway leading to his house. As Ianite’s champion, he had gained a few… interesting abilities. Tom could hear Jordan’s footsteps getting closer and closer, and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Any moment now. Come on. He had done it in front of Ianite, he could do it now.

“Tom, what are you-” Jordan’s voice cut off as wind rushed past him, a sound eerily similar to an enderman teleporting filling his ears. Tom opened his eyes.

He was standing a few feet away from his house, the wave lapping on the beach outside. Tom grinned. He’d have to tell Ianite about this later.

* * *

Tom hummed to himself as he meticulously checked and rechecked his supplies, tapping his foot to a tune only he heard. It was another warm, quiet day on the island. Tucker and Sonja were out helping the pirate with something, and Jordan was probably off hunting the Modestep’s. Good for him, if Tom was being honest.

Dianite still hadn’t stopped trying to get Tom to join him. If anything, his attempts got worse and worse, slowly leaning towards bribery. As if he’d leave Ianite for a sword. Honestly, who would do that to their god?

Tom smiled as he completed another chest. Ianite was going to be so impressed with his progress. He was going to build her an even better temple with all of the quartz he had. It was going to be so cool - he had even spent the last couple of days collecting enough red and blue flowers to make enough purple dye for the windows _and_ the carpet. Take that Mianite temple, he thought with a slight amount of viciousness. After both the Dianite and Mianite temples had appeared, everyone else had made fun of Tom’s Ianite temple.

He couldn’t have people dissing his goddess like that. Nope.

Tom grumbled as he sorted through the different types of wood. How was he supposed to decide which one looked better next to quartz?

His communicator buzzed, and Tom spared it a glance. Oh, a call from Tucker. Maybe the pirates needed more gold? He didn’t have much, but he would gladly give up some more if they needed it.

“Hey, Tucker!” Tom said cheerfully, holding the communicator up to his ear with his shoulder as he sorted out his light blue dye from his blue dye.

“Furia.” Was all Tucker said, and Tom grabbed his sword off of his weapons rack, scrambling to get his armour on, dyes forgotten on the crafting table.

“I’ll be right there.”

* * *

Tom can’t breathe. 

His chest is tight and everything is too much too hot _please oh god it hurts pleasepleaseplease_.

Flames are licking at his clothes, and the smoke is choking him but he _can’t move can't breathe ianite please help nonono_. 

Tom gags on ash and blood and he tries to breathe. But every breath sends a new wave of burning pain through his chest, like fanning a fire, and Tom is in agony. He should have moved when Jordan said to, but he hadn’t and now he was here. The fire charge had hit him right in the chest and he could _feel_ some debris still inside of him, shrapnel pieces left over from the explosion.

His eyes sting and he must be crying but he can’t stop himself, can’t force the tears back in. Tom’s ears are ringing, vision beginning to dim and he thinks; _ah, this must be death_.

But death doesn’t come for him immediately.

So he’s stuck, laying on his back, waiting. For death, or maybe for mercy. The latter would be preferable, but Tom isn’t exactly in a position to be arguing.

Suddenly he’s jostled, dragged backwards and Tom chokes again, something warm and wet dripping out of his mouth. Jordan’s face appears in his vision, pale and worried. Huh, Tom thinks. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jordan worried before.

“-come on, you bastard,” he just barely hears over the ringing in his ears, and Tom coughs on another mouthful of blood. “Hey, hey hey Tom.” Jordan’s hands are on his face, his eyes glassy and expression furious. “Don’t you die on me, asshole. I didn’t-” Jordan’s voice wavers and he takes in a shuddering breath, “-I didn’t turn against Dianite for nothing.” Tom can barely breathe, barely think, but somehow he manages to force his hand to touch one of Jordan’s.

“Always-” Tom wheezes, and the darkness that’s been encroaching on his vision grows, “-Always knew you cared.” Tom smiles, bloody and exhausted, his vision starting to blur. “Help her,” He coughs out, “Please. Finish it. For me,” Jordan tenses, but Tom finally starts to go limp. The pain starts to go away, fading into a dull ache.

“No, don’t you dare die on me!” Jordan’s voice is overtaken by ringing, but Tom can see his mouth moving frantically, tears pouring down his face. He gives him one last smile, and Tom closes his eyes, letting himself drift away.

* * *

Tom’s body is limp and turning cold in Jordan’s arms. He can feel the blood soaking into his pants, but Jordan isn’t moving. Furia’s smouldering remains lay a few feet away, the guardian having been destroyed in his anger. 

Thunder rumbles in the distance, ozone and ash and sulphur in the air, and Jordan cries. Tom’s chest is a mess of burnt skin and blood and he can’t look at it, and yet he can’t look away. This is his fault. He should have been able to stop Furia before this all happened. Maybe Tom would still be -

Jordan choked on a sob, his eyes stinging. What was he supposed to do now? Tom was… He was _dead_ , and there was no one Jordan could go to. Mianite would reject any request from him, and Dianite would laugh in his face if he admitted he wanted Tom to live. He was on thin ice already because of the duel and now -

Now Tom was dead.

Jordan pressed his forehead to Tom’s, shuddering as gentle raindrops began to hit his back. It was hopeless. Tom’s quest would never be fulfilled. His friend was _dead_. Something inside of him clicked, and Jordan found himself opening his eyes, raising his head. Faintly, he smelt a hint of lavender, and his brow furrowed in concentration. There was something he was missing here. Or… Someone.

Grimacing, Jordan pulled Tom closer to his chest, his arms wrapping securely around Tom’s limp body. He breathed in and out slowly, attempting to calm his racing heart. The storm worsened around him, rain falling harder and faster until he was sitting in a muddy puddle, his clothes soaking with blood and water.

“Lady Ianite,” he began, voice hesitant at first. There was a flash of lightning in the distance, thunder rumbling, and Jordan cleared his throat and tried again. “Ianite,” He said, eyes darting up towards the clouds. “I call on you. Please.” Jordan added, feeling slightly ashamed. He should have listened to Tom when Tom was talking about how he and Ianite spoke.

“You’re needed, Lady Ianite.” He tries again, having to raise his voice as the rain intensifies. Jordan grits his teeth. It feels like he’s screaming into a vacuum; no one can hear him. No one is listening. “Please, this is _urgent_.” Jordan holds back another sob as he glanced down at Tom’s face. Some of the rain that pelts his face makes it look as if Tom is crying. Jordan certainly is.

“Please,” Jordan says, voice ragged and thick with tears, tipping his head back to scream into the sky, “Please, Ianite. Bring him back.” Rain pelts his face, washing away the blood and grime from the battle. Lightning strikes the ground in front of him, and Jordan is momentarily deafened from the thunder that follows it. When he finally regains his senses, he stops freezes.

A woman is floating in front of him, ethereal and slightly transparent. Her face is schooled into a stern expression, and Jordan can’t help but duck his head slightly. 

“Lady Ianite,” he begins, opening his mouth to say more. Instead, Ianite raises a hand, stopping Jordan in his tracks.

“Champion,” She says cooly, her eyes drifting to Tom’s body, laying limp in his lap. Her eyes soften momentarily before she makes eye contact with Jordan once more. “I heard you calling for me.” He nods numbly, his mouth suddenly dry.

“Yes,” He answers, his voice cracking. “Please, I need - Tom needs _you_ ,” He glances down at Tom’s peaceful face, forcing back tears. “Please. I don’t know what I can give you but-”

“Champion,” Her voice returns, patient but forceful. Tears mix with the rain pouring down his face, and he clutches at Tom in desperation. “Why did you call _me_? Why not my brother? I’m sure he’d love to have something to lord over me and Tom.” Jordan grits his teeth, already hating the words he’s about to say.

“It… felt right.” Jordan’s shoulder’s slump and he feels all his anger leave his body in one moment. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Ianite ever since Tom declared himself as her champion. _Something_ had been wrong, and Jordan had thought that it was some malevolent entity playing a trick on his friend. When he had asked Dianite about her, however, things started to change.

She was real, the god of balance was a real tangle person, and Dianite was keeping her locked away. Something in Jordan screamed that it was wrong for her to be held captive, wrong for him to be following his god. There was something wrong with everything, so he did what he always did when he had a problem.

He went to Dianite. And Dianite told him _everything_.

Everything had broken at that moment.

His faith. His trust in Dianite. His trust in _himself_. How could Dianite have separated him from his destiny? How could Dianite have thrown Tom away without even meeting him? Was he even worth that much to Dianite, or was he just something that Dianite had used to threaten Ianite? 

How could he call himself Dianite’s champion if he was so sure he wasn’t even supposed to be _Dianite’s_?

“Lady Ianite I…” He watches as she tilted her head to the side, her eyes flashing with recognition, “... I can’t be yours.” He settles on. “But I - I know that what Dianite is doing is _wrong_.” Jordan’s breath hitched, looking down at Tom, his hand reaching up to wipe a smear of blood off of his cheek.

“...I know, Jordan.” She says softly, and Jordan’s mouth forms a thin line. “... I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

He floats for a while, basking in the cool emptiness of the void. Nothing hurts here. Everything is just soft and cool and gentle and _safe_. Tom wonders why he ever allowed himself to be dragged out the first time. There’s a whisper of _something_ in his ear, but he’d much rather allow himself to be dragged back down into the void. He’s so tired. He just wants to rest.

 _I think you know why that’s a bad idea, my champion_. Ianite’s voice is soft and melodic, tinged with sadness and grief and yet joy. Tom reaches out to her, feeling her presence solidify beside him.

 _My Lady,_ he thinks, weakly attempting to reach her. _I’m sorry. I failed you._

 _You have done nothing of the sort_ , she chastizes, and Tom feels a tinge of anxiousness. She soothes his worry with a wave of calm. _Your time is not yet over, my champion._

 _I know,_ he replies softly. _… Can’t I just stay a little longer?_ Ianite sighs, and a wave of sympathy brushes over him.

 _No, my champion,_ Ianite hums. _This is a… special request, as it were. Time is of the essence_.

 _Let me guess,_ Tom huffs, _Jordan wants me back so he can kill me himself_. He tries for humorous, but really it comes out tired and worn.

 _Correct, my champion,_ Ianite replies.

 _Alright,_ he says. _Do your worst._ Tom can feel Ianite’s laughter spread through him, warm and full of joy. It spreads across his body, and he can feel his arms and legs again, feel the constraints of his body settling in. 

_You just need to get used to your body again,_ Ianite reminds him. Tom attempts a nod, but his head doesn’t move.

 _Alright, alright,_ Tom grumbles, attempting to relax into his body as much as possible. It takes a few moments before he can feel his fingers start to tingle, the weight of his eyelids across his eyes. _Almost there._

 _Breathe, my champion_ , Ianite says, and Tom tries. Really, he does. But the air won’t come and he can’t do it _he’s stuck he’s stuck he’s failed nonono-_

And then something inside of him snaps into place once again.

Tom sucks in a breath, and then another.

And then the pain comes back.

* * *

Tom comes to consciousness slowly. It’s almost like his first day in Mianite all over again - although this time with the added benefit of him not throwing up at Jordan’s feet. Though, he certainly does not feel good. His chest aches, a slow steady pain, and Tom groans. Breathing hurts, but it’s manageable. For now, at least. He can feel someone’s hand holding his, fingers gently interlocked.

“Tom?” A familiar voice pipes up, small and scared. _Jordan_ , Tom thinks relief washing through him. He opens his eyes slowly, letting himself adjust to the lighting of the room. It’s small, oak walls and cobblestone floor. A room in Dec’s house, maybe? Groaning again, Tom musters up most of his energy and rolls his head to the left. “Oh thank god,” Jordan looks like shit. Tom’s throat feels raw and ragged, but he manages to cobble together a few words.

“You… look like... shit,” Very eloquent. The relief in Jordan’s eyes is apparent, and he beams even though Tom’s just insulted him.

“Thanks,” Jordan replies cheerfully, the bags under his eyes a too deep colour of purple. He stands, and for a heart-stopping moment, Tom thinks Jordan is going to heave. Instead, Jordan helps Tom sit up a bit, even though it pulls at his chest. Tom sags back against the pillows, watching lazily as Jordan bustles around the room.

“You know…” Tom starts, grimacing slightly as his throat aches with the use, “... purple… isn’t your colour.” Jordan blinks, confused before he rolls his eyes, a teasing smile settling across his face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jordan grumbles, reaching over to the side table to pour a glass of water. “Glad to see your feeling better enough to start making fun of me again.”

“Love… you too…” Tom winces and allows Jordan to guide the cup to his mouth. The water is cool and soothes the burn from his throat, and Tom allows his eyes to slip closed for a moment. Jordan gently places the cup on the bedside table and slips his hand back into Tom’s. “... Doesn’t mean you aren’t… an asshole…” Tom coughs out, cracking one eye open. Jordan’s shoulders shake, and his quiet laughter fills the room, but it quickly turns into sobs. His grip tightens on Tom’s hand, and Tom tugs him closer.

“Didn’t-” Jordan whipped his eyes, “Didn’t think I’d get to hear you say that again,” Tom shifted closer, leaning his forehead against Jordan’s shoulder. Jordan sagged into Tom, pressing his cheek to Tom’s temple as he cried. “Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Jordan hissed, squeezing Tom’s hand tighter.

“‘ll...try… not to…” Tom closed his eyes, feeling Jordan’s spare hand reach up to cup that back oh his head, fingers tangling into Tom’s hair.

“You were dead,” Jordan whispers, the fear present in his voice. “You were _dead_.”

“I know,” is all Tom can reply with. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a one shot this was supposed to be a one shot THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE-


End file.
